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Authors: J. Craig Wheeler
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fire. In
less than a tenth of a second an intense beam of light crossed a
distance greater than that between the poles of the Earth and
slammed into the upper tail of the shuttle.
The beam delivered heat but little impulse so
there was only the faintest jolt and a tiny crackling carried not
by the vacuum of space, but through the metallic walls of the craft
itself. The three men in the cabin sensed the brief blue-white
flare from the change in shadows and odd reflections, as if someone
had struck up a welding torch out of their line of sight. The radio
crackled to life as the man in the rear seat made his first overt
move. With a single motion, smooth despite the constraint of his
vacuum suit, he pushed a button on his wrist. To one side of his
helmet visor, visible but not in his normal line of sight, the
green luminous display of an electronic stopwatch leapt to life,
its quickest digits whipping by at dizzying rate. He pushed another
button and the display was once again that of a standard
chronometer.
“Control to shuttle! Control to shuttle!
Cosmos has fired. Repeat, Cosmos has fired! Are you hit? Come in
shuttle.”
The battle was on! Jupp felt a calm of
adrenalin-charged tension settle over him. He rammed the control
thrusters, slewing the craft around to present a smaller, tail-on
target to the Cosmos, as Wahlquist adjusted the boom until the
mirror shielded them in the rear. Then he responded in his best
Chuck Yaeger drawl.
“Aaaah, that’s affirmative, control. We have
taken a hit in the aft section. We’ve covered our rear and are
having a look now.”
Jupp flipped a finger sign at Wahlquist who
hit a switch to relay the image on the cabin monitor to the ground.
Wahlquist adjusted the position controls on the boom camera and
watched the image play awkwardly on the monitor until he was
oriented and began to scan around. The boom extended directly to
the rear so that the shaft lay against the right side of the tail
with the mirror beyond. Everything seemed normal as he scanned
across the base of the tail and then around the bay.
“Look higher up on the tail,” growled Colonel
Newman from the rear seat.
Wahlquist gritted his teeth, turning stiffly
in his suit until he could see Newman seated behind Jupp. He
glanced quickly at him and then for a longer instant at Jupp. He
turned back and fingered the controls to tip the camera upward and
then let out an audible gasp.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” said Jupp slowly.
The upper third of the tail section was
missing. A scorched crescent marked the damage, beyond which there
were random ends of wires and shafts, and beyond them nothing,
their intended connections vaporized. The lower part of the rudder
that remained intact hung at a skew angle, its upper pinions
blasted away.
“Aaah, you copy that control?”
“We’ve got it, shuttle. Evaluation is
underway. Mandatory, repeat mandatory, shuttle, you must complete
orbital adjustment with greatest speed.”
“Roger.”
Jupp nodded to Wahlquist who swiveled the
boom so that the mirror was abeam them, clear of the rockets, but
once again exposing their tail. Jupp played with the thrusters and
rapidly fed data to the computer. He hit the rockets again, and
they felt the thrust of the final burst that would bring their
orbit into alignment with that of the Cosmos. When they finished
the maneuver, they were orbiting directly toward the Cosmos, but
going sideways, their side exposed. Jupp rotated the craft until
they were pointing toward the Cosmos, and Wahlquist rotated the
mirror to the front, protecting them to the maximum extent. They
were behind and slightly below the Cosmos, but orbiting more
quickly so they would slowly catch up. Wahlquist sticky-footed his
way over and buckled himself into the copilot’s seat.
At a critical point they would fire the
rockets and rise into the higher, less rapid orbit of the Cosmos.
In orbit, one could not simply fire rockets and catch up. You only
went faster than the other
less than a tenth of a second an intense beam of light crossed a
distance greater than that between the poles of the Earth and
slammed into the upper tail of the shuttle.
The beam delivered heat but little impulse so
there was only the faintest jolt and a tiny crackling carried not
by the vacuum of space, but through the metallic walls of the craft
itself. The three men in the cabin sensed the brief blue-white
flare from the change in shadows and odd reflections, as if someone
had struck up a welding torch out of their line of sight. The radio
crackled to life as the man in the rear seat made his first overt
move. With a single motion, smooth despite the constraint of his
vacuum suit, he pushed a button on his wrist. To one side of his
helmet visor, visible but not in his normal line of sight, the
green luminous display of an electronic stopwatch leapt to life,
its quickest digits whipping by at dizzying rate. He pushed another
button and the display was once again that of a standard
chronometer.
“Control to shuttle! Control to shuttle!
Cosmos has fired. Repeat, Cosmos has fired! Are you hit? Come in
shuttle.”
The battle was on! Jupp felt a calm of
adrenalin-charged tension settle over him. He rammed the control
thrusters, slewing the craft around to present a smaller, tail-on
target to the Cosmos, as Wahlquist adjusted the boom until the
mirror shielded them in the rear. Then he responded in his best
Chuck Yaeger drawl.
“Aaaah, that’s affirmative, control. We have
taken a hit in the aft section. We’ve covered our rear and are
having a look now.”
Jupp flipped a finger sign at Wahlquist who
hit a switch to relay the image on the cabin monitor to the ground.
Wahlquist adjusted the position controls on the boom camera and
watched the image play awkwardly on the monitor until he was
oriented and began to scan around. The boom extended directly to
the rear so that the shaft lay against the right side of the tail
with the mirror beyond. Everything seemed normal as he scanned
across the base of the tail and then around the bay.
“Look higher up on the tail,” growled Colonel
Newman from the rear seat.
Wahlquist gritted his teeth, turning stiffly
in his suit until he could see Newman seated behind Jupp. He
glanced quickly at him and then for a longer instant at Jupp. He
turned back and fingered the controls to tip the camera upward and
then let out an audible gasp.
“Son-of-a-bitch,” said Jupp slowly.
The upper third of the tail section was
missing. A scorched crescent marked the damage, beyond which there
were random ends of wires and shafts, and beyond them nothing,
their intended connections vaporized. The lower part of the rudder
that remained intact hung at a skew angle, its upper pinions
blasted away.
“Aaah, you copy that control?”
“We’ve got it, shuttle. Evaluation is
underway. Mandatory, repeat mandatory, shuttle, you must complete
orbital adjustment with greatest speed.”
“Roger.”
Jupp nodded to Wahlquist who swiveled the
boom so that the mirror was abeam them, clear of the rockets, but
once again exposing their tail. Jupp played with the thrusters and
rapidly fed data to the computer. He hit the rockets again, and
they felt the thrust of the final burst that would bring their
orbit into alignment with that of the Cosmos. When they finished
the maneuver, they were orbiting directly toward the Cosmos, but
going sideways, their side exposed. Jupp rotated the craft until
they were pointing toward the Cosmos, and Wahlquist rotated the
mirror to the front, protecting them to the maximum extent. They
were behind and slightly below the Cosmos, but orbiting more
quickly so they would slowly catch up. Wahlquist sticky-footed his
way over and buckled himself into the copilot’s seat.
At a critical point they would fire the
rockets and rise into the higher, less rapid orbit of the Cosmos.
In orbit, one could not simply fire rockets and catch up. You only
went faster than the other
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